Congratulations It's a Boy
by adiosToreadork
Summary: one-shot about Bro raising Dave


**Ok so this is not a pairing story just so you know. It's platonic familial love. I enjoy Stridercest, but that's not what I was going for. Reviews and constructive criticism are appreciated. And just so we're clear, telling me "the characters don't act like that and you are completely wrong and this is awful." is not constructive criticism. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the story, Homestuck and the characters don't belong to me.**

**BREAK**

You don't know why you ever thought this was a good idea. Any sensible person would have taken the baby to an orphanage after finding it on a crashed meteor. Or maybe they would have called the police…? You're not really sure what a normal person would have done because you are most definitely not a normal person.

After seeing the baby's red eyes, you, for some ungodly reason, thought it would be a good idea to pick it up. And after you put a tiny pair of shades that you had been carrying around with no particular purpose in mind on its face and it clung to you, you knew you were going to keep it.

You had the worst time thinking of a name for him. A few days after you brought him home, you guys were chilling on the couch together, watching some soap opera ironically and he started giggling every time this character named Dave talked.

You picked him up and brought him close to your face. "So, you like the name Dave?" He giggled some more and started drooling on your lap. "I'll take that as a yes. Dave it is then." He smiled really big at you, showing off his gums, and you couldn't resist smiling back. It's not like anyone else would see your momentary lapse in being cool and Dave sure wasn't telling.

**BREAK**

You jolt awake at the sound of Dave's wailing. That's the third time tonight. It's four in the morning and you've slept a grand total of thirty minutes. You drag yourself off of your futon and cross the small distance to Dave's makeshift crib, which is a drawer you pulled from your dresser and lined with smuppets.

You pick him up and he instantly stops crying. It's probably because you don't have your shades on. It always seems to calm him down when he can see your eyes, so you don't really wear them around the apartment anymore.

He stares at you for a couple of seconds and almost instantly falls back asleep against your chest. You don't want to risk waking him up again, so you carefully sit down on your futon with your back propped up on the wall behind you. You fall asleep like that, with him cuddled up against your chest.

You and Dave both accidently sleep through your alarm clock and you miss your shift at McDonalds. You immediately jump out of bed and call to make up excuses and apologize profusely, but are fired before you can get a word out.

You look over at your futon where Dave's still sleeping and drooling all over your pillows and you guess it wouldn't be the biggest loss if you pawned your turntables and used that money for diapers and baby food until you found a new job.

**BREAK**

It's Dave's first birthday and he couldn't be more upset about it. He recently started attempting to walk and he's always falling all over the place. Because it's practically impossible for you to keep your eye on him all the time, you've removed all sharp objects from the floor. You've also secured pillows to all of the open walls.

Somehow, he still manages to constantly hurt himself. He always falls over and just lays on the floor, crying for you. He calls you Bro. You aren't really sure why, but you like it fine, so you just went with it. It's probably easier for him to say than your real name and you aren't sure how you'd feel about him calling you daddy.

You were in the middle of trying to make him a cake when you heard a thunk and Dave crying. You ran out of your sad excuse for a kitchen and picked him up from the floor.

"Come on little man, cut it out. I know you're fine." He doesn't even look at you. He's crying more and more often and it's driving you crazy. You tried looking stuff up about it on the internet before, but every website you go to assures you that it's perfectly normal for babies to cry often. It may be normal, but it's annoying as hell.

You bring him into the kitchen with you, holding him in one arm and whisking the batter with the other. After a while, you realize he's stopped crying. You look over at him and see that he's staring at you whisking the batter. He looks mesmerized by the simple motion.

You honestly cannot believe that's all it took to get him to calm down. Babies are so weird. "Bro…" he looks up at you and you know exactly what he wants.

"Ok Dave, just this once." You dip your finger in the batter and bring it up to his mouth. He grabs your finger with both of his tiny hands and holds it as he sucks all of the batter off of your finger.

You smile at him and he starts giggling. He really is adorable, despite being a pain in the ass most of the time.

**BREAK**

Dave's five years old and it's his first day of kindergarten. He looks so excited as you walk him to the elementary school. You think about telling him that it's not cool to look so happy, but decide to let him have his fun. Now that he's old enough to understand what it means to be cool, you've been teaching him everything you know.

You both wear your shades all the time now and you don't show affection outwardly nearly as often as you used to. You know it's important for him to learn how to hide his feelings and always appear cool and calm so that he can protect himself, but you secretly really miss giving him hugs and taking naps with him on your futon.

When you pick Dave up from the school at the end of the day, you can tell he's been crying. He runs into your arms and you pick him up. You'll remind him it's not cool to hug in public later, when he's not so upset and vulnerable.

"What happened, Dave? You were all smiles this morning." He buries his face into your chest and mumbles something as you begin carrying him home.

"You're going to have to speak so I can hear you, little man." He lifts his head up and looks at you. You remove the shades from his face and see the tears falling from his red eyes.

"All of the other kids made fun of me." He looks so sad and you would do anything to get him to smile again.

"Now why the hell would they do that?"

"Because I wouldn't take my shades off and then when I did they made fun of my eyes and my hair and they said only old people have white hair and only demons have red eyes and so they kept calling me an old demon." He says so fast you almost don't catch everything.

You're home now and you set him down so you can unlock the door. Once you get inside, you pick him up again and carry him to your futon. Once you're both settled in, you take off your shades and look him straight in the eye.

"Dave, you know you're not an old person and you know you're not a demon. Don't let what they say get to you."

He looks down and you can tell he's crying again. "I know. I tried to ignore them but they wouldn't stop."

Sometimes you forget that Dave is only five years old. Of course he wouldn't be able to just ignore everyone taunting him. "Ok, well how about this. I'll talk to your teacher and make sure she knows that you aren't going to take your shades off anymore."

He's stopped crying, but he's still sniffling and he crawls into your lap and looks up at you with determination. "Yeah but the other kids will still make fun of me. Can you teach me to be stronger? Please?"

It's then that you realize teaching Dave to hide his emotions isn't enough. People will always pick on him for being different and he needs to be able to protect himself. Especially once he gets older and bullies become a real problem.

"Do you think you'll be able to pick up a sword?"

**BREAK**

Dave's thirteen now and you never talk anymore. He's almost perfected the poker face. Even you have a difficult time telling what he's thinking. You can do it, if you really try, but he usually absconds before you get the chance.

The only time you ever really spend with him anymore is when you're having a strife on the roof.

The worst part is, you know it's your fault. You taught him to be like this. You just never really considered the consequences. Sure, now he's strong and can't ever be hurt by anyone, but that's only because he never associates with anyone.

You think of how it was when he was younger. You think of how you used to attempt to cook together, and watch soap operas ironically, and kick his ass at videogames. You hate yourself for ruining that. For ruining him.

He did everything you told him to and now you wish he'd just stop. You wish he'd act like a normal thirteen year old.

You regret ever taking him off of that meteor that day, because you screwed up raising him. He's permanently messed up and it's your fault.

**BREAK**

You don't understand this game or how you got sucked into it. You know it's something Dave started with his internet friends (thank god he has friends), but you don't think anyone expected it to turn out like this.

You couldn't be more proud of Dave though. He's showing more emotion now than he has in years.

You realize that your rather unorthodox teachings will probably benefit him in this game. You wonder if maybe you subconsciously knew this was coming and you were preparing Dave. Preparing him for what this game will make him do.

You don't really remember how you ended up on this giant record, fighting this weird black dog person thing. There's a Dave with you, but you don't think it's the real Dave, considering it's orange and has wings.

But that doesn't really matter. It still looks like Dave and you know it's important for Dave to win this game and you'll help him anyway you can.

And when your own sword is plunged through your chest you really hope you managed to help Dave somehow and you're staring at the floating orange Dave and you realize that you never once told Dave that you love him.

You always have but you never bothered to actually tell him, so maybe he doesn't know and maybe you could have fixed him a lot sooner if you had told him, but he's not here now and it's too late and you're dying and you look at the orange Dave and you think he's crying and you tell him because he's still Dave even if he isn't the original Dave. You tell him that you love him, that you always have. You tell him how proud you are of him and he's crying and you haven't seen Dave cry since he was five and you smile at him and you realize that you're crying too and then you close your eyes and you don't ever open them again.


End file.
